


blooming days

by daxiaohua



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 96line is cats but jun is just a cat metaphorically, Happy Birthday Jun!, M/M, magical greenwitch au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daxiaohua/pseuds/daxiaohua
Summary: It's Junhui's birthday, but he'd prefer not to make a big fuss out of it. After all, the magic's not just him.





	blooming days

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday jun!! it is late, but i hope you had a good day.
> 
> this is unbeta'd and doesn't make much sense, because i mostly wrote it in two days as i was about to fall asleep but i hope you enjoy it!

Junhui woke up with two regular-sized cats and one big cat in his bed and a song in his head, which means today is going to be a good day.

  


He hums, a little off-tune, [ swaying his hips with the 90s synths ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WnyPg2fQqpE) , and whirls one delicate hand in a gentle circle, light sprinkling from his fingers into the pot. With a _pop!,_ the sprout bursts out of the soil, shaking the dirt from its leaves. Junhui smiles.

  


Other hedge witches might make the sprout grow and bloom right away, but Junhui has always respected birthdays, how they mark the moment between nothingness and somethingness. He thinks it's a bit cruel, to ask the flowers to grow so quickly before they even know what it is to be. They never mind, when he has to ask, happy to help out a new friend. He prefers not to ask, though.

  


In any case, he's got a tray of sweet pea sprouts, and now they're all humming [ 夜太黑](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyF67C-Bqwg), too. They could have worse songs to grow with, he supposes. He sets them down on the back table in the greenhouse with the other pink flowers and steps back to see what else needs to be done today. The lavender is in fine form, especially, and he considers seeing if he can plan a trip to Herb Village with the whole group. The lavender is excited about this.

  


Junhui is chatting with them about the possibilities of maybe bringing back some new friends (with permission!) when he hears the camellias rustle near the door, whips his head up, sees nothing. He feels something brush against his shin and slip around his feet. He looks down to see a mass of fur wrapped around one ankle, pressing its face into his foot.

  


" _Ni hao, mao mao_ ," he croons, crouching down to give him a scratch. He's pretty sure this one is Wonwoo, judging from the grey-and-brown stripes and the smaller size, but he prefers to stay on Jihoon’s good side by not getting the two confused. Soonyoung is probably still sleeping, but if Junhui asks nicely, he might get to cuddle with the tiger later while he reads _xuanhuan_ novels on his phone.

  


All in all, it’s not a particularly busy Monday, which is as nice of a way to spend a birthday as any. Soonyoung would probably insist that the other three throw him a party and then end up planning and throwing the entire thing by himself, which, judging from the bags of soju and beer that have mysteriously appeared in their pantry, has already begun. Wonwoo would declare birthday rights to go to his hideout in the woods and read all day, then come back and wreck them all at Mario Party. Jihoon would either do something utterly Jihoon, like turn into a cat all day and nap in the sun, or something utterly Jihoon, like force them to make snowmen in the front yard while shouting instructions from the roof and then sneakily treating them all to dinner and stealing all their rice.

  


But Junhui prefers his quiet rhythms. He loves his Chinese ballads, which he sets to playing on the radio in the kitchen. He loves hot foods on a hot, sunny June day. He loves singing and dancing with his plants, watching them preen in the light. He loves spending time with the people he loves.

  


Earlier, it had just been him, up near the crack of dawn, as he measured out ingredients for his birthday noodles into a bowl. Flour and salt, then the eggs, water, and _jian shui_ , kneaded all into a dry ball and whacked into submission. He’d set it in the fridge just as the first sun rays peeked over the horizon, then ran outside, barefoot.

  


The grass and the trees had shuddered off the dew, then stood up taller in the sunshine. _Happy birthday, dear friend_ , they’d hummed, and a particularly kind daisy had drifted through the air and tucked itself behind his ear. Junhui had bowed his thanks, smiling, as they all quietly watched the sunrise together.

  


He loves staying up late or waking up early on birthdays and New Year’s Days to watch the sun rise: the newness of the day, the shedding of an old skin, the endless possibilities stretching out before him like seeds in a field, invisible and waiting to bloom.

  


The cat, who must be Wonwoo if he hasn’t gone off to lie in a corner by now, has followed him into the kitchen. He hops up on the countertop and stretches dramatically, then lies down, flicking his tail side to side as he watches Junhui bustle around, taking the _yi mian_ dough from the fridge and setting it on the island in the middle. Junhui swats the offending tail as he squats down, pushing aside the sausage warmer to reach into the cabinet for the pasta roller, which he places next to the dough.

  


Cooking magic isn’t his specialty, not by a long shot. But he’s learned enough to make stews that ease a heartache, stirfries that shoo away a migraine, cakes that soothe a cold. And today, he’s making noodles: a little for luck, a little for love.

  


For this, he likes to sing. It’s about intention, after all. He thinks of the people who will eat his food when he makes it, just like he thinks of the plants that will blossom from the earth, reaching towards the sky. Like he looks into the water and sees his own face stare back.

  


The thing about longevity noodles is that you’re supposed to cut them as little as possible, to ensure a long and happy life. Humming [another love song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqaKryi6CVc), he divides the dough into four, stacks it in a floured basket. He feeds a piece into the pasta machine, turning the crank with his left hand and cradling the dough with his right, sliding it back into the top when it’s all the way through. Wonwoo follows the motion lazily, back and forth as the noodle dough gets thinner, until it’s just right. Junhui folds the dough over on itself, dusts a knife with flour, and carefully slices the dough into thin noodles. He sprinkles them with flour and twirls them into a pile.

  


Soon, he’s made a little noodle mountain, and Wonwoo has fallen asleep on the counter, right in a little patch of sun. Junhui makes himself wait to boop him on the nose until he’s packed away the fresh noodles and set the water to boiling. Then he pulls out his phone to take some pictures, crouching and bending to get all the best angles. And _then_ he boops him on the nose.

  


He leaves a little patch of flour, and, giggling, he pulls out his phone to take more pictures as Wonwoo blinks himself awake. The cat looks very put out. Junhui kisses him on the nose, and suddenly, he has a faceful of Very Human Wonwoo in Only His Boxers, looking just as put out and still, inexplicably, with a smudge of flour on his nose.

  


“Good morning, Wonu,” he sings, kissing him on the nose again. Wonwoo rolls his eyes and slides off the counter.

  


“Happy birthday, Junnie,” he murmurs, slipping his arms around Junhui’s waist and nudging him against the island. Junhui catches the flash of a smile before he’s pulled into a sweet kiss, drapes his arms around Wonwoo’s bony shoulders. Wonwoo pulls off, buries his head in the crook of Junhui’s neck and kisses his throat.

  


They take a moment just like that, until they’re nudged at the hips by an insistent snout. They look down to see a tiger sitting at their feet, mewling sadly. Junhui laughs. “Soonyoung, you can get in here too, you know!”

  


Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, turning human and launching himself into the hug. “Happy birthday, Junjunjun!” he shouts, laying a wet smooch on his cheek, then delivering a flurry of kisses all over his face. “Ugh, your breath is terrible,” Junhui whines, but doesn’t lean away.

  


Jihoon shuffles in, hair rumpled from sleep, scratching his belly. “Can you guys move, I’m trying to get my coffee,” he grumbles, squinting at the three boys piled against the counter.

  


Junhui wordlessly holds open his other arm. Jihoon sighs theatrically, puts his mug down, and slides into the hug, grumpiness betrayed by the nose nuzzling into Junhui’s collarbone, the whispered “Happy birthday,” the soft press of lips against his chest.

  


Later, their friends will all come by: Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seungcheol will come in from the shop, maybe with the spices they know Junhui’s been eyeing; Minghao, Mingyu, and Seokmin will definitely bring some new extremely comfortable and stylish outfit they’ve been designing, and Minghao will pretend that he just wants model pictures but “forget” to take it back; Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan will roll in late from Jeju with a packet of rare seeds and a bowl of marinated crabs, and Junhui will pretend that he’s mad, but they all know he’s just happy to have them all together finally.

  


Later, he’ll scoop out 13 bowls of longevity noodles, reminding everyone over the clamor to “not bite at all, just slurp!”, and everyone will laugh when Mingyu slurps up his noodles so fast that he hits himself in the face with sauce. Soonyoung and Seokmin will pretend to re-enact the “Lady and the Tramp” scene until Jihoon kicks Soonyoung in the shin, causing him to bite off his noodle in surprise, after which he’ll incessantly whine about “dying young,” and Seokmin will say, “ _Aigoo,_ you promised me we’d grow old together, grandma!” in his old _harabeoji_ voice, to which Jihoon will proceed to try and kick _him_ in the shin, and Wonwoo will have to drag him off to a corner to sulk, peppering kisses over the crown of his head.

  


Later, Soonyoung will make them all sing “Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs over the secret rainbow sprinkle-covered cake that Junhui definitely knows nothing about and is definitely not currently poorly hidden in the fridge in a box that says “NOT JUNHUI’S CAKE (BUT DON’T PEEK ANYWAYS)” in big, sloppy letters.

  


Later, when everyone else has gone home, the four of them will snuggle up on the rug at the foot of their bed, Jihoon in cat form on Junhui’s lap, Soonyoung--because Junhui asked!--in tiger form at Junhui’s back, Wonwoo letting Junhui rest on his shoulder and read his _xuanhuan_ novels on his phone, while scratching Junhui’s head (because as the only non-cat boyfriend, he doesn’t get the headscratches he deserves! (This is a lie. They all give Junhui headscratches whenever he whines and plops his head down in their laps.)). They will be playing the piano ballad that Jihoon wrote for Junhui, which Jihoon had turned scarlet and steadfastly refused to play during the party, no matter how much Jeonghan teased him. When Wonwoo’s and Soonyoung’s voices come in for the three-part harmony, Junhui will be secretly thankful for this, because it’s a love song, and some things are best kept for lovers alone.

  


Later, before they go to bed, Junhui will kiss each of them on the cheek and whisper, “Thank you.” They will smile and shake their heads. “It’s because we love you,” someone will say, and Junhui will drift into sleep smiling.

  


But that is later, and this is now, in the arms of the three boys he loves. The water bubbles merrily on the stove. The morning sun shines through the window. The magpies chirp in the pine trees. Something is blooming in his chest, twining around his heart. He closes his eyes and breathes in. When he opens them again, he sees the vines that have started to wrap around the four of them, starting to blossom, small little jasmine flowers that sway gently even without a breeze, something sweet in the air.

  


_Friend,_ they sing, _Thank you. Welcome home._

  


**Author's Note:**

> very much inspired by [ nisakomi's Jun birthday series ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/744402) and [ Hyb's description of cooking magic in "we all have a hunger"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627222)!
> 
> comments and kudos are deeply appreciated!! thank you for reading :)


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